Drowning In You
by timelordsinconverse
Summary: When Faith wakes from her coma, she still has a lot to deal with. The weight of the people she killed still weighs heavily on her, and seh needs a place to run to. So she retreats to her past-an old relationship, and home. But home isn't always where the heart is.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BtVS Characters, credit to that goes to the wonderful (sometimes not as much) Joss Whedon. **

**Notes: Sorry if the beginning is a little all over the place, I changed the spot in the timeline that I wanted the story to take place in, from before Faith's coma to after it, so if things seem a bit hairy, that's why. Hopefully it will get better now that I've decided that. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter One: Mirrors

Faith stared into the cracked mirror in her dingy apartment room. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

That made sense—she hadn't. Not more than an hour at a time. Then she would be pulled back to consciousness—gasping, sometimes sobbing.

She had killed a man.

She could still feel the blood as it dried on her hands. Too thick, clumping underneath her fingernails and drying until it could have been sticky red paint. It had been so long ago—more than eight months. And he hadn't even been the last. And yet, he still haunted her.

Buffy thought she knew how Faith felt. But she hadn't been the one holding the stake, she hadn't seen the way the deputy mayor's face looked when the wood entered his chest. He'd never seen it coming, and that made Faith sick to think about. Buffy hadn't stopped on the way back home to puke until she thought her guts would come up with the bile. And she hadn't been the one who had to slip off the edge of sanity, unable to deal with what she had done.

No, Buffy didn't understand. She could parade around all high-and-mighty as usual, but she did not understand. Which left Faith alone in everything.

She pressed her fingers to the dark hollows forming under her eyes as if that could make them go away. Maybe if they would just go away, and if she could get one night of uninterrupted sleep, then maybe things could get better, and Faith could forget the entire event. Everything could go back to how it was.

She was happy in Sunnydale, she kept on repeating that over and over in her head. She _liked_ Sunnydale. Here, she had friends and a job, and she could almost feel like she fit in. Sunnydale had given her a place, and it was all slipping away from her. It wasn't fair. That had all been ripped away a long time ago. So why did she feel as though it were just yesterday?

But then, that was life, wasn't it? Life gave you something, and then it spat in your face. It made you fuck up badly enough to make you realize things can't go back to normal, and you won't ever forget your failures. Neither will anybody else.

Maybe they shouldn't. Maybe this is what she deserved. Running from one death, even though she'd killed so many.

_Why did it matter so much? _He looked just like them, he was _evil_ for god's sake, he worked for the mayor. Why was his death such a big deal?

_Because he was human. _Buffy's voice echoed in Faith's head. _"You killed a man, Faith."_

"No. Not you too." Faith muttered, pushing the voice away. She didn't want any more guilt, not from herself, not from her inner Buffy monologue, not from anyone. She searched the mirror's surface for an excuse. Any excuse that could pull her away from everything. But there was none. She had known there wouldn't be, but it was worth a shot.

If she had been feeling better, more angry and less guilty, then she might have lashed out and shattered the mirror. Mostly, Faith was just tired. Being in a coma had sapped her energy. It was the opposite of what she would have expected. But she could feel how weak she had become from the months of disuse. Even a slayer didn't just stay naturally fit.

She turned the TV on and sat down on the twin bed that dominated most of the small room. The screen flickered temperamentally before pixellating into a mess of uninterpretable squares of image. Only the sound came through, and even that was garbled.

Faith cursed and got up to bang on the top. Sometimes that helped. Ever since a vamp had snuck in and ended up getting thrown into the television, it hadn't worked well.

She could've called someone, although Faith had no idea who. Not Buffy, although part of her wanted to talk to her. But Buffy wouldn't make things better. She'd lecture Faith some more on right and wrong, and that wasn't something Faith needed to hear any more. She'd tell her that she needed to make up for what she'd done. Or worse yet, she just wouldn't pick up.

Plus, she couldn't remember if she'd paid the phone bill for the month or not.

Nevertheless, Faith picked up the phone, and found herself dialing an old number. One she could remember from back in Boston, one she'd told herself she wouldn't use again.

It probably wouldn't work. What were the odds that it would have stayed the same?

The phone rang, and Faith flopped back into bed and leaned against the wall, frowning at the TV as it omitted another burst of noise.

Finally, someone picked up.

"'lo?" The voice was groggy, but Faith recognized it just the same. She almost hung up. The memories of being back in Boston were flooding back with unfortunate clarity, and Faith didn't want any of them. She'd headed to Sunnydale for many reasons.

"Bobby. Hey."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Memories

"_Faith!" She looked up from her cigarette at the figure standing in the door and tucked her lighter away. A flutter of nerves filled her, but she pushed it away. He shouldn't scare her. He was just Bobby._

"_What the hell? I thought you gave up smoking. You think I can afford to pay for cigarettes?"_

_She sucked in a cloud of smoke and waited for it to fill her and ease the gnawing in the back of her mind before answering. She'd been feeling strange all day—jittery and on edge—but the cigarette helped calm her a little._

"_It's just a pack. And I bought it."_

"_Oh, yeah. And then it'll be two, and then three, and then I'll be paying for all of them." He snapped, throwing his coat onto the couch. She could feel herself shrinking down into the couch as he towered over her. They'd been living together for a couple months, because he had his own place and Faith didn't have anywhere else to go. Her mom had finally lost their apartment, and she was god-knew-where. Probably the women's shelter a couple blocks down._

"_No. It won't." She said quietly, already knowing she was going to regret it._

_His hand flashed out too quickly to register. Suddenly her cheek was stinging and the cigarette had tumbled down onto the couch, singing a neat hole in one of the cushions._

"_Yes, it fucking will."_

_Tears knotted the back of her throat, but she pushed them back. He'd never let her hear the end of it if she cried. Rule number one was don't cry. Don't let anyone see how much you're hurting, because they'll take advantage._

"_I'm not paying for this shit, Faith."_

_Yeah, he had other things to buy. His own drugs. Faith picked the cigarette back up before it went out or did further damage. He was probably right. She wouldn't be able to stop if she kept buying a pack and smoking it, then trying to go without for a month while she scraped together more money. That wasn't really quitting._

"_I'm sorry. I'll stop after this, I swear." She said, but the words sounded meaningless even to her. Everything sucked lately. Bobby was always in a bad mood, and then he'd go out and get drunk or high, and that only made him worse. Sometimes she would wish she could just leave everything. It would make things so much simpler._

_But there was nowhere to go. Bobby reminded her of that daily. Whenever she thought maybe he was flirting too much with some other girl, or noticed he hadn't even bothered to come home the night before. Every time she screwed up._

"I swear to God, Faith, it's a good thing I let you stay. You wouldn't have anywhere else to go."

_Or something along those lines._

"_Yeah, sure." He spat, and stalked into the kitchen in search of food. Most of it was gone, but he managed to dig out a half-eaten chips. He plopped down on the couch next to her, and she could smell booze on him._

_His eyes met hers as she looked at him._

"_What?"_

"_Nothing."_

"What?"

_She knew that tone. Knew if she didn't answer, she'd get another bruise to add to the collection._

"_I thought you were working."_

"_And?" Maybe it was the cigarette that made her feel brave enough to continue the conversation. Maybe she was just stupid. Nevertheless, she continued onwards._

"_You've been drinking."_

"_So?" He asked, popping a chip into his mouth and turning the TV on, forcing her to raise her voice over the volume spilling out from it._

"_It's just—"_

"_I'm the one working. You sit here and smoke all fucking day, don't pretend like you don't. I'm not stupid. So I think it's completely fine if I feel like stopping and getting one fucking drink after a long day, because I'm the one paying for all this. Okay?"_

"_Yeah. Okay." She wanted to fold in on herself and disappear. She was quitting, he knew that. And she didn't just sit around. But arguing was pointless. A tear slipped its way past her defenses and fell._

_He eyes softened and he put an arm around her, pulling her in closer and kissing the top of her head. Being so close, she could smell the sweat working its way in underneath the alcohol's scent. It made her stomach twist, but she could ignore that. For Bobby, she could ignore that._

"_I do all this for you, babe. So we can have a place and be happy. And one of these days Kenny is going to get me into his place, and then I'll be making enough to get us a better apartment. We'll move somewhere nicer, and I can finally afford to get us some nice things. Maybe a ring." He said softly. And she hated it, but the thought of that made her hopeful all over again._

_But that strange feeling was back, and she was feeling sort of light-headed, but extremely present at the same time. And sort of strong. Another puff of the cigarette didn't help this time._

_And she opened her mouth, intending to agree and apologize, but her tongue didn't cooperate. It refused to say anything. Bobby leaned in to kiss her, but she found herself pulling back. She wasn't sure if she could take it, tasting whatever he'd been drinking. Suddenly she thought it might actually make her sick, although she usually didn't mind._

"_No."_

_The word dropped like a hammer, and it brought silence with it. The worst sort of silence. Bobby stared at her, his mouth open slightly, his brown eyes still rimmed in red. For a moment, it seemed like he might let things go. But then his mouth closed back up into a neutral expression._

"_What do you mean? This is what we want. Remember?"_

_Her head shook back and forth of its own volition and her heartbeat sped up. His mouth took on a sideways smile. She exhaled smoke that had been about to choke her and tapped off some cigarette ash into the ashtray._

"_We keep doing this. And it isn't getting better. You keep spending everything so you can go do stuff, and I'm stuck here while you go cheat and—"_

_His hand flew towards her again, and she winced backwards away from it, expecting the pain._

_But it never got there._

_Faith looked down, and realized she had caught his hand in midair. The next thing she noticed was the red creeping into his cheeks as he glared down at her hand, holding his at bay. A crooked smile flitted across his face as he tried to figure out what to do. She'd never done this before._

"_You bitch." He whispered, and jerked his hand away. For a moment, she thought he would leave it. She remembered some stupid thing from when she had been at school, that if you showed someone you were going to fight back, they would leave you alone._

_She sank back in the couch, inhaling more of the nicotine-laced smoke, but it was expelled along with any other air in her lungs as he drove a low blow into her stomach._

_The cigarette smoke made it harder to catch her breath. Faith doubled over, holding her stomach as she choked and fought for air. When she had regained enough oxygen to think clearly, she looked back at him as he put out the cigarette with the heel of his shoe. He looked so calm. Like nothing had happened._

_She rose to her feet, her mind searching for an excuse to do something. To get out of the room._

_Out of the apartment._

_Her eyes flitted to the door as Bobby stood up, towering several inches above her. It was an obvious threat, but things hadn't ever been quite like this. Maybe he hit her once or twice. But there was a look in his eyes that made Faith's blood run cold as she looked into it and took a step back._

"_Bobby, please." She whispered, but he didn't seem to be listening._

"_What's your problem, Faith? You think you're going somewhere?" He stepped forward, closing the distance between them._

"_No, I d-didn't, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I don't know—"_

Smack.

_In the face again. It would probably leave a bruise. And still, he kept advancing on her as she took steps back, feeling the tears that had been waiting begin to let loose. Her head was pounding from the blows._

_The next time he raised his hand, there was a definite voice in her head. _"Block it, Faith."

_It came out of nowhere, and she obeyed. Her hand came up at just the right moment, and his wrist smacked into her forearm._

_The surprising thing was that she was able to ward it off. Bobby was muscular. He prided himself in looking big and tough, and while Faith wasn't quite weak herself, she wouldn't ever have been able to fend him off._

_So why was she able to do it now?_

_A startled laugh burst forth from her lips as his expression turned to one of outright rage. He couldn't stand not being in control, because that was what he was best at. He was a leader, and people followed him, or they suffered._

_Faith was doing neither._

_Another blow reminded her that she was, in fact, suffering a little. But by that point, she should have been doubled over and on the floor as he settled back down onto the couch to finish of his chips. Instead, they were discarded on the couch, spilling out into the cushions and forgotten._

_There was no conversation. The look in his eyes—he was ready to kill her, Faith thought numbly. That terrified her, and she froze up. He saw his opening, and he was hitting her again. Again and again, until she began to see stars of pain. Whatever strange advantage she had been holding, she had let it go. _Stupid_, she cursed herself, reeling back and putting an arm out for the wall, although it felt as though it were moving along with the floor. It was closing in on her, just like Bobby._

_Finally, she sank down, kneeling on the ground as she waited for the pain to recede. Then he did return to the couch, acting like nothing had happened. He shoved some of the chips back inside the bag and sat down with a screech of old springs, and turned the volume up farther._

_And as he did that and acted as though nothing had just happened, Faith's mind raced._

_That wasn't Bobby. Bobby didn't do that, he loved her. He'd told her that—that's why he wanted her to quit smoking. The money was just another excuse, he'd told her that, too. That he would spend all the money he had on her. It's just that then they would lose the apartment, and that would be bad for her. For them. And yes, he did hit her. Sometimes. But that was his temper. He couldn't help it._

_He'd never been like that, though. Faith stayed there, leaning back against the wall and inhaling deeply. None of it made sense._

_Once she felt she would be able to stand without fresh white dots blooming in her field of vision, she did so and made her way to the bathroom shakily._

_Her face was already bruising. It was faint, but you could make out a red hand print as it darkened. It would be worse on her stomach._

_There, it was a flower patch of violet. She winced and lowered her shirt, not wanting to look at it for a moment longer. It was too much._

_Out in the living room, Bobby rose to his feet. "I'm going out. I'll be back soon."_

_The door opened and closed, leaving Faith alone with her thoughts._

_She walked back out into the main room, looking around at the rundown place. And she heard the voice again, telling her that she'd go crazy if she stayed. That she had to go out._

_For a moment, she thought about packing up everything she had, shoving it into a backpack, and getting out._

_But then she looked at the framed picture above the TV. It was a snapshot from the month after the met. Faith and Bobby, smiling and happy. He had his arms wrapped around her, and he was beaming at the camera._

_And that smile spoke to her._

I'm not like that, Faith. I'm not like that.

_She walked over to the picture and touched the glass, her fingers skimming over his face._

_No. He wasn't. He loved her._

_So she went over to the couch and cleaned up the remnants of her crushed cigarette and got rid of them, then sat back down and waited for him to come back._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Bobby

He recognized her voice instantly as well. The voice that spilled out of the speaker was friendly, even.

"Faith! Damn, it's been forever."

There was one more moment when she almost ended the call and pretended like it was a wrong call. She shouldn't ever have called him, but maybe he'd understand. He'd been through his fair share of shit. And if she had to get out, then Bobby would probably offer her a place to stay.

She was stronger than him, too. That had changed. With some training, she would have been able to handle him back in Boston, and now Faith knew she could.

"Yeah. A long time. Guess I've been busy."

Why was he so _happy_? The last time she'd seen him, he was spitting curses and telling her to come back or he'd hunt her down. Hostile would have been easier. Then she could have hung up the phone and told herself he couldn't help, either.

There was a warning voice in the back of her head. Bobby was smart, even if he had dropped out around the same age as she had. He knew how to manipulate people to do what he wanted.

With everything going on, she didn't need to complicate the matters any more.

"Where are you now? I heard you'd left state. Didn't leave a number, or I would've called."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, well, I guess things happen, don't they?"

So friendly. So friendly.

"Yeah. About that. I called because…"

_No, Faith. Don't say it. Don't let him know you're in trouble, you're screwing things up ten times worse right now._

"I'm kinda in trouble."

"Trouble?"

"With the law." She ran a hand through her hair.

"Shit, Faith. Never thought I'd hear you say that. So does this mean you're coming back?"

There was a long silence, in which Faith fought an internal war. The memories of her time with him were beginning to fade. She'd never told anyone, not even Buffy, who was the closest she'd had to a friend.

Buffy who was ready to rat her out and get her put in jail, after she suffered through so much and managed to avoid it the first time.

On the other hand, Bobby had caused her a lot of pain that she wouldn't have had to deal with otherwise. If not for her previous watcher, she probably would have stayed there.

"No, I don't think I've got enough money to make the trip, not with paying for everything else. And it's not like I have a place to stay, either." There. An excuse that could get her out.

"You can stay here, I've got a spare couch. Don't worry about it, Faith. You need help—hey, I'm here."

She looked up at the ceiling.

Bobby. Buffy. Bobby. Buffy.

Which one to choose?

Bobby.

Buffy.

Bobby.

"Yeah, okay. When can I show up?"

Bobby.

Buffy hated her. For good reason, probably. Things between them could not be fixed, and Sunnydale was rapidly losing everything that had drawn her in and kept her in. A safe place. A temporary hiding spot from the evil that had chased her so long ago. That evil was gone, and now it was more risky to stay. The cops would find her. Or the Scoobies would turn her in.

"Whenever's fine. You show up, I'll pull out the blankets. Okay?"

"Uh-huh. Thanks. I'll be there soon, I guess."

She hung up the phone then, and just stared at it, trying to weigh how much of a mistake she had just made.

Finally, she got up and set the phone back into its cradle.

_What had she just done?_

The phone trilled suddenly, making her flinch. Faith stared at it as it continued to blare a warning at the room. No, she wouldn't give in. She'd just let it ring, and she would stay. It wouldn't be the first time she lied to someone.

But when the answering machine came on, it was Buffy's voice.

"Hey, Faith. It's me. Look, we need to talk about this. I can't keep this up." Faith stared at the wall. She tried to shut the voice out. But apparently Buffy was determined to be heard. "I think—I think we should talk to Giles. He'll know what to do. This can't be the first time something like this has happened. We can get this figured out. Call me back? I'm dropping by after patrol. You can come and do this, and we can get you help. Otherwise…"

She trailed off, and then hung up with the veiled threat, leaving Faith with two options.

Jail, or Bobby.

Giles wouldn't understand. He was a part of the watcher's council, even if he had been fired. He'd probably have to report it. He had no liking for Faith, she wasn't stupid. She had seen that in his eyes a long time ago. The Watcher's Council would probably deliver the same punishment as the police. Incarceration in some extreme slayer-proof place.

She didn't want that. Small, dingy apartments were one thing. A jail cell was completely different.

And so she searched under the bed for the backpack she'd brought her things in, and she began to pack. Everything she owned, which was not much, went into it. Clothes, mostly. A couple stakes just in case.

If she didn't come back by the time rent ran out, she would lose the place. It was a decent deal—one she could afford. But that didn't matter much.

She was stronger, she could handle Bobby.

And she kept on repeating that to herself. It was just Bobby. An average human male, easy stuff.

By the time she had reached the bus station, Buffy was walking over to the motel.

She knocked on the door and waited for Faith to reply. There was none. She twisted the knob, and it opened. The lights were off, but she already had a sinking feeling, even before she switched on the lights.

The lights came on with a flicker. Buffy looked around, taking in the bare surfaces. Further investigation showed the closet was emptied, along with the bathroom drawers.

Bus tickets had been purchased by the time Buffy left. And the bus was leaving Sunnydale by the time she got back home, wondering what she could say to Giles, Willow, and Xander. They wouldn't just overlook Faith's absence.

She arrived at the bus depot in time to get an unhappy glare from the ticket seller. "Next bus won't leave for another hour." She called out, chewing a stale wad of gum.

"That's…fine." Buffy stared at the mostly-deserted room. "Where was the last one headed to?"

"Boston."

Of course, that made sense. Buffy sat down on one of the benches and stared at the ground. Faith was slipping farther and farther away.

Maybe if she went back home, that would be good for her. She could figure things out and then come back to Sunnydale, and maybe they could fix things. It was a stupid hope, one Buffy didn't tell anyone about. The Scoobies all hated Faith for what she had done. But Buffy had been thinking, and she kept thinking. What if she had been in Faith's place that night so long ago, if she had been the one putting a stake through the deputy-mayor's chest?

Things could have turned out very different. Faith had handled things the only way she knew how to, and it had gone badly. She felt alone, probably because that was how she had always been before Sunnydale. Buffy didn't know that much about her past, just that she didn't like to talk about it, but that it haunted her. Every once in a while she would get a look in her eyes, like she was remembering something. And then she would be off, doing something—usually something stupid or reckless. She was running away from things.

Maybe a trip back to Boston would help her. Buffy could tell the Scoobies she'd sent her back to sort things out. Maybe if she explained to Giles he would understand. His own past still haunted him sometimes. Willow and Xander were still in full-on hate Faith modes, but that couldn't be helped. They had to move on in their own time.

"You gonna buy a ticket?" The seller asked, snapping her gum. Buffy got up and shook her head. She smiled politely.

"No, thanks." She left the depot quickly, trying to shake off the feeling that Faith was headed into more trouble, wherever she was.

The bus smelled like sweat, with the faintest hint of pee mixed in. Faith stared out the window, trying her best to ignore the stink. The man across the aisle kept trying to catch her attention, but she was too distracted by her own thoughts to think about some weird homeless-looking dude.

Her backpack filled up half of the seat, discouraging anyone to sit by her. But at the second stop of the night, she looked over to see someone clearing their throat.

"Excuse me. Mind if I sit here?" A woman maybe ten years older than her was standing her, a friendly smile on her face. She was tall, looked like she was a few pounds from being overweight—enough that any fitness she had was covered in curves, and had sandy blonde hair that fell down to her waist. Faith glanced around at the empty seats in the back. "I get motion sick sometimes. It helps if I sit in the front." She explained.

Faith shrugged and moved her backpack to allow the woman space. She didn't really care if the woman did get motion sick, but she didn't feel like arguing. It was easier to just let her sit and hope she wasn't chatty.

"I'm Bella."

She raised an eyebrow but made no reply to Bella, hoping she'd stop there. As the bus jolted back into motion, Bella got rid of any hopes Faith might have had.

"Where are you headed?"

"Boston."

"Boston sounds nice. I'm headed there as well. I've never been there before, but I'm visiting some extended family."

Faith didn't reply. She turned so she was looking out the window again.

"Have you got a name? We'll be having a long ride, may as well get friendly."

_May as well not. _Faith thought with an inner groan.

"Faith." Bella smiled.

"Faith's lovely. Was your mother religious?"

"Something like that." She was an alcoholic with too many boyfriends. She didn't even know how she'd gotten her name. Could be one of the workers at the hospital she'd been born at had suggested it, and her mother didn't care enough to argue.

There was a wonderfully long silence as Bella tried reformatting the conversation, hoping to draw Faith in.

"You know, Faith, I've done my fair share of travelling. I've met lots of people."

"Mm." God, when would she give up? Faith was rethinking trying to talk with almost-homeless across the aisle.

"What is it you're running from?"

The question made Faith stiffen. She caught herself before she did something more in her nature—chiefly something violent.

"I'm not running. I'm on a bus." She finally said, sinking down into the vinyl seat.

"You've got that look about you. I read people well, and you're terrified." Bella smiled sympathetically, effectively setting Faith's teeth on edge. She hated sympathy, and always had. She'd hated the looks she got when people noticed her bruises, or they learned her mother was no longer around, or a long list of other unfortunate things about her life.

"I'm a little scared you're going to get punched if you keep talking, does that count?" Faith snapped. Bella smiled softly.

"Dear, I'm a little harder to hurt than that." She cupped her hands together, and a light flared between them. Faith stared at the dancing pink flame trapped between her fingers in fascination, then jerked herself out of it. Then she looked up at the woman.

"Adorable party trick. What are you trying to say, you're some sort of witch?"

"Something like that." Bella closed her hands more tightly, and the light vanished.

"I'm a slayer. So where does that leave us at?"

Bella shrugged. "I don't intend to hurt you. But I can read feelings, and yours are all mixed up, dear."

"Great. Can you read that I don't want to talk about it? I'd say your powers are pretty damn useless if you can't tell who wants to talk to you and who wants to." The window was starting to fog up as a night fog caressed the sides of the bus.

"Wanting to and needing to are two entirely different things." There was a painfully long pause as Bella waited for a response. She tucked a strand of blonde behind her ear and leaned back into the seat. "I was where you were, once upon a time. I fell in love, and I thought it was the same for him. So I stayed through everything, because who wouldn't, if it was for love?"

"I guess if you believe in that stuff, maybe." Faith shrugged, still staring sullenly out the window. It was too dark to make out much but the edges of the road and the occasional passing car.

"I stopped believing in it after that. I finally left after getting the shit beaten out of me. Ended up in the hospital. I've still got scars. He threw the television at my head."

Faith winced, trying to imagine that happening.

"If you decide to stay in Boston, I think you should be very careful. Things aren't all how you think they are." Bella said.

"I think the person I have to worry about is back in Sunnydale, thanks. I've got my own scars. Mine were from getting stabbed, and then falling off a three-story building." Faith finally said. It was more than she'd intended to tell Bella, but did it really matter? She wouldn't be likely to see her ever again.

Bella frowned.

"Slayers fight. There were never supposed to be two of you, it's only natural you would struggle for power. You both have it, but you were meant to be the only one with it. The both of you need to accept that you can share."

That was the last straw. Faith was tired of hearing how people understood, and being cryptic about everything as well was really starting to irritate her.

"So what, you understand all of this because you had some abusive boyfriend, so now we should be best buds? I don't think so. You're just some Sabrina the middle-aged witch. I'm a slayer, and I've got a lot more going on than you can understand. So take your bullshit reasons for sitting next to me and go somewhere else."

Bella's eyes flashed, and for a second her entire face was transformed as black took the place of warm brown. Her mouth curved down into a disapproving frown, and her sandy hair seemed to darken to more of a mud-brown. It had to be the lighting. Faith blinked and the black eyes and darker hair was gone. It was just Bella and her pleasant smiling face, although the smile looked strained.

"I understand power, Faith. How it works. I ran to it, and it kept me safe for a long time. But not long enough. Sometimes you have to save yourself from yourself, but you can only find that out for yourself. When you think you're ready to talk, then find me."

Yes, because that was certain to happen. Faith crossed her arms. When she turned to say something, Bella was gone. She was nowhere in the bus that Faith could see. And the guy across the aisle was looking at Faith out of the corner of his eyes as she searched each row for a flash of sandy hair.

Finally, she settled back down, shooting a glare at the guy that made him flinch and turn away.

If Bella had really been there, she had pulled some sort of disappearing trick.


End file.
